


Touch

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s nothing Blaine doesn’t love about touching Kurt.</p><p>Freewriting, set after 3x05</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

Kurt has this spot at the base of his throat, this warm, wonderful hollow just above his collar bone, that when Blaine presses his mouth to it makes Kurt’s voice drop low and breathy in an instant. When Blaine first kisses him there, Kurt’s body goes tight and still, like he can’t bear for even a single bit of his attention to be focused anywhere else, and then slowly he unthaws while his voice gets even huskier as Blaine lingers. Blaine could spend hours kissing that spot just to hear Kurt say his name again and again like he’s something magical and wondrous. Kurt doesn’t let him, though, because the longer Blaine stays there the more Kurt twists with need beneath him and grabs at Blaine’s shoulders and arms to try to bring their mouths together once more. Blaine can only resist being wanted for so long.

Blaine loves that spot. Blaine loves all of Kurt’s spots.

He loves the inside of Kurt’s elbow, where the skin is soft and vulnerable and even the puff of his breath against it makes Kurt gasp.

He loves Kurt’s bicep, just above it, which is firm and strong and so appealingly masculine beneath Blaine’s hands and around his body.

He loves the knob of spine at the nape of Kurt’s neck, just the perfect height for a kiss when his arms are wrapped around Kurt from behind as Kurt surveys the contents of his closet or fusses with dinner at the stove.

He loves the line of Kurt’s knuckles, the skin so smooth stretched over bone when Blaine raises Kurt’s hand to his lips. He also loves the roll of his eyes Kurt always gives him afterwards, as well as the delight at the gesture Kurt can never manage to hide in them.

He loves the thickness of Kurt’s hair and the fact that Kurt lets Blaine sink his hands into it when Kurt’s mapping out his own favorite places on Blaine’s body. He loves the way Kurt smiles up at him when Blaine tugs his hair to keep him somewhere or to move him along. Kurt does what he likes, but he still smiles.

He loves the strength in Kurt’s bearing and the way he sits so straight and tall in public but lets himself slouch and lean into Blaine’s hand when Blaine strokes down his back and side when they’re alone.

There’s nothing Blaine doesn’t love about touching Kurt. Nothing.

Blaine melts every time Kurt puts his hand at the small of his back. His ears start to ring and his breath catches every single time. He finds himself daydreaming happily about the way Kurt’s chest feels, clothed or bare, beneath his cheek. He spends fifteen minutes one afternoon trying to come up with the right adjective to describe how the sureness in Kurt’s hands when he is dragging Blaine’s shirt up his stomach makes Blaine feel safe and desired at the same time. (He fails and winds up texting, “You always make me feel important,” which is right and wrong all at once.) He swears late one Friday night on the drive home from Kurt’s house that he can feel the shape of Kurt’s hip etched into his palm like a brand, and it only stops burning his skin when he gets that hand around his erection in the shower and comes with the memory of the taste of Kurt on his tongue.

He loves touching Kurt with clothes and without, for pleasure, for comfort, or just for companionship. He loves it all.

There is only one thing Blaine doesn’t love about touching Kurt: he can’t do it all of the time. He doesn’t even _need_ to touch Kurt all of the time, but it’s frustrating that he can’t do what he wants when he wants now that what he wants feels so close.

It’s not just that they shouldn’t hold hands or hug when they’re out, even though they sometimes do for a second or two because they’re in love and can’t help themselves. It’s that sometimes when he pats Kurt’s thigh in Glee club for a moment he really wants to be kissing behind Kurt’s ear instead. It’s that instead of spinning out beneath Kurt’s arm as they dance in Rachel’s basement he’d rather have his hands on Kurt’s hips while their bodies swayed together in the same few inches of space. It’s that instead of Kurt squeezing Blaine’s shoulder in the hallway he’d kind of like Kurt to rest his hand on the back of Blaine’s neck and stroke his throat with his thumb.

It’s not that what Blaine gets isn’t good, because he’s happy for every little touch, but he wishes they had more time for everything, more time for the little caresses as well as the big ones. He wishes every night as he climbs into his bed that he could have Kurt there, too. He wouldn’t mind stripping Kurt bare and finding even more spots to enjoy, but even to have him in his arms, Kurt’s silk pajamas slippery against his own sweats and t-shirt, would be heaven. If he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, he can imagine the sound of Kurt’s breathing in his ear and the way he’d murmur his happiness so softly against Blaine’s hair. He can imagine Kurt’s hand rubbing gentle circles on Blaine’s chest and his toes cool where they’d tuck against Blaine’s bare ankle. He can imagine Kurt’s hand sliding into Blaine’s sweatpants to drive him crazy, but he can just as easily imagine slipping into sleep in the circle of Kurt’s arm, nothing less innocent than that.

It makes him ache to think of it, to have to think of it instead of just experiencing it, because that’s what Blaine wants, more than anything: he doesn’t want to have to imagine; he wants to _have_. He wants to be able to have it all with Kurt. He wants to reach over right now in the middle of Glee rehearsal and rest his hand on Kurt’s thigh, just to feel him. But he can’t. For so many reasons, he can’t.

They’re teenagers. They’re gay. They’re still learning about each other and the world around them. He can’t.

Blaine tells himself _later, later_ , though he doesn’t know when later might come, whether it’s this afternoon or two years from now, and keeps his hands folded in his lap instead, where they don’t belong.


End file.
